There she stands,
An angel with broken hands,
An angel with stones for wings,
She sings the sun away
And spins timorous sky ashade
Of wonder, thunder row'n’ down
Her body, she sang of me
As I died asleep
Another night, my eyes too worn to cry,
Too alone for an expression of lonliness
To bare any meaning.
The sapphire trail
Skylark doled to drain
The riverrun grass of
Substance built.
Lifted in hypoxic transcendence
Glistening with light, ****** gold,
Skin to lilt, and touch to felt
And dawn rotted unto morning
With one less life having made it.
